He gave hope of a future free of bombs and bullets
AS A child who grew up in the midst of the Troubles, there are always two people who spring to mind when I think about those who were at the forefront of speaking sense, speaking the truth in my home town of Derry.
One of those was Dr Edward Daly, the bishop who waved his handkerchief in front of the wounded body of Jackie Duddy in a desperate attempt to get the 17-year-old to safety during Bloody Sunday.
The other is John Hume, a man who spent his life fighting for the people of his constituency, fighting to secure civil rights for those being discriminated against on the basis of their religion, fighting to stop blood being shed on our streets, and fighting to keep the sons and daughters of people he knew from throwing their lives away all for the sake of a flag – any flag.
Looking back today, it almost seems surreal, like that period of my life was merely a figment of my imagination.
Was it really me, four years old, beside my elder brother and sister lying flat on the pavement, being held down by my terrified grandfather as snipers fired bullets across our heads at the British army and, not knowing the seriousness of the situation, I stood up because it was raining and I wanted a hat?
Did that shot ring out in the night and kill a man who lived at the top of our street just because he was a Protestant, and thus an affluent businessman who in somebody’s eyes deserved to die for that reason?
WAS it really in Derry, a beautiful city loved by tourists who appreciate its music, art and soul, that a huge bomb killed five soldiers and Patsy Gillespie, husband of Kathleen who worked in our local shop, and who was tied to a car carrying the device and forced to drive it to his death which he undoubtedly knew was at hand?
But it was. It was my friend who was shot dead by the UVF, who also murdered his father as they watched TV at home.
It was at my school gate where a man was shot dead one evening and we passed by with our books and our lunchboxes the following morning, ready to play hopscotch or get in some practice for the annual pantomime.
It was from that same classroom that we watched the buses burning during the Hunger Strikes as local lads rioted with the police.
It was from my front door that my father was taken by the army for questioning as his terrified wife and children watched, wondering what was going to happen next.
It was at the school where he taught that another teacher was beaten and seriously injured by a British soldier while trying to prevent them from entering the school grounds so he could protect the children under his care.
It was my cousin who had to leave her home at 17 and move away from her family, friends and everyone she held dear because she fell in love with the wrong person and a threat was made against her life.
This was life and it was in this twisted normality that I grew up. There was a reason that Derry was an SDLP stronghold and that reason was John Hume.
He fought tirelessly for the people of his city, he fought tirelessly for the people of his country.
In times when terror was the norm, there is no doubt that he put his life on the line as threats must have come to him from all sides of the conflict.
Hume was a man of peace but that didn’t mean that he never got angry.
I can remember news reports of his fury, those images of Hume, dripping wet from the water cannon that had been directed at him, spread-eagled against a wall while a teenage soldier searched him in an undignified manner.
But this was a man who had dignity, this was a man who pushed forward at no small cost to his own personal safety and that of his family.
This was a man who brought America to the table in an effort to try and end the bloodshed that claimed the lives of over 3,000 people.
As Bono took John Hume by one hand and David Trimble by the other on the stage of the Waterfront Hall ahead of the Good Friday Agreement, I was there in the audience with a few of my friends.
I was, of course, from Derry, others were from West Belfast and there was one from the top of the Shankill Road.
We had long fought against any prejudices we encountered, uniting through a shared love of music, regardless of our backgrounds. But that night we felt it in the room.
It was hope. Hope for a better future, hope that no child sitting in front of the television would feel their blood freeze again as a shot rang out somewhere close.
A hope that, unlike our parents, we wouldn’t have to fear for the lives of our children as they closed the front door, heading for a night out to watch a football match in the local pub.
Ahope that we could go about our lives experiencing the normal everyday traumas of joy, heartbreak, love and loss but not at the hands of others fighting a battle that seemed both worthless and pointless when weighed up against the number of bodies that were buried.
We wouldn’t have to fear questions about the letter ‘H’ or whether or not we were supposed to know the words of the Hail Mary when looking down the barrel of someone else’s gun in a college car park.
And John Hume was one of the people who made this happen.
He well deserved his Nobel Peace Prize and more for saving thousands of lives with his dogged determination to bring peace and a better future to Northern Ireland.
Following the demise of both Ian Paisley and Martin McGuinness in recent years, credit was given to both men for their work towards a peaceful future – and rightly so.
But John Hume spent his life working tirelessly to hold a middle ground, where violence was unacceptable whatever the reason, during the times when both Paisley and McGuinness were themselves fanning flames of a different kind.
He brought the good people of Northern Ireland with him.
He was the true architect of the peaceful future Northern Ireland now enjoys and he did it without ever encouraging one person to lift even a fist against another in the name of religion.
He fought for our rights, he fought for our future and, alongside David Trimble, delivered what, as a child, we all believed was impossible.
In times when terror was the norm, there is no doubt that he put his life on the line